Life Sucks and Then You Die Again and Again
by Aloysha aka Solis
Summary: Kyle’s life is starting to suck. Stan’s going away for college, he’s stuck in Colorado, he ends sharing an apartment with Kenny, and a French guy is stalking him. Can he work it out or will it only get worse? Slash


Life Sucks and then You Die…

(Cont: Again and Again)

I don't own South Park. It's probably for the best.

Authors: Aloysha and Dimitri. (Dimitri who is very upset about being tricked into another story.)

Fandom: South Park.

Warnings: Slash, Language, Violence, Illegal Activities. Anything else falls under those four headings, we're pretty sure.

Pairings: Kyle/Christophe, Kenny/Tweak, Stan/Wendy, Token/Bebe, Damien/Pip, Butters/OFC.

Notes: We like Stan (And Cartman to a degree) and swear we are not getting rid of them as handy plot devices to further Kyle's development capabilities in this story by eliminating his usual 'enemy' and backup. Nope. We'd never do that. And we do like Wendy. We think she's adorable actually; its just Kyle doesn't like her.

Summery: Kyle's life is starting to suck. Stan's going away for college, he's stuck in Colorado, he ends sharing an apartment with Kenny, and a French guy is stalking him. Can he work it out or will it only get worse?

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Chapter One

These Tired Eyes

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_Kyle's PoV_

I almost didn't go. I had a half-dozen excuses all lined up if my parents or little brother questioned me and a dozen more I'd feed to Stan when he got a chance to call or email me. I was tired, I was busy, I wanted to spend time with Ike, I left for school early, my car broke down again…it would have been so fucking easy to just stare at my alarm clock, roll over and pretend it was just another day.

But this feeling in my stomach, like something was pulling apart or unraveling inside and the burning behind my eyes that wasn't tears but did make the bright red letters blur until I could no longer see straight wouldn't let me sleep again. It was six AM, my alarm had gone off thirty minutes ago and I was still staring at it stupidly. The sun was just coming up and Stan would be leaving at eight. It would have been so easy if I didn't want to throw up at the thought of not seeing him until winter holiday rolled around.

So I got up. Went through the motions that I always went through. Showered without feeling the water, dressed without really looking at the clothes, ate a Pop-tart without really tasting any thing, and pulled on my sneakers to walk to Stan's house.

I couldn't help but wonder, as I locked the door, how long I'd been doing things without actually doing anything at all.

It was hot, especially for Colorado in the early morning. It was August of course, but still. I was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt for a band I hated but Stan loved. He'd taken me to the concert two years ago, in Silver City.

It was stuck to my skin with a thin sheen of sweat by the time I got to Stan's house. I'd left my house, which was only slightly cooler than outside because my family didn't believe in air conditioner, and found the air was so thick I nearly choked. Ike was still asleep in the backyard, under the cool shade of the trees, with his friends, celebrating the end of summer and the beginning of the school by sleeping over at each other's houses as often as possible. I stopped to check on him then continued along my way.

It didn't make sense for it to be this hot. I'd blame global warming, holes in the ozone, increased gas levels in the atmosphere influencing the greenhouse effect, and melting icecaps but most people just look at me like I'm talking some foreign language. I honestly think I'd be better off talking to people in Hebrew sometimes.

"Hey Kyle." Mr. Marsh greeted, stopping in his valiant effort to peel Stan away from his wife who seemed to be choking the life from him. "Glad you could come as well; I know things have to be busy with you going to North Park tomorrow. Excited?"

"I can hardly contain myself." I said, not bothering to disguise the sarcasm. Mr. Marsh had already returned back to his attempt to save Stan and wasn't paying attention anyway. Not that he would have really heard me even if he had been.

No one really hears me. I'm a pale, skinny, Jewish, science geek who was friends with the star football player, head cheerleader, and the student council president. Being overshadowed by everyone else was pretty much par for the course with me.

"It's your own fault you know." Cartman, still overweight, racist, and an annoying twat (in my humble opinion at least) said as I opened the door to climb into the backseat of Mr. Marsh's car. Figured he'd be the one to listen.

"Shut up Cartman." I muttered. Stan and his father had finally broken away from Mrs. Marsh so we'd be leaving any moment. Driving to the airport so that Stan and Cartman could begin the rest of their lives outside of South Park while I continued to languish in redneck idiocy. I was less than overjoyed, obviously.

"Did I hurt your feelings Jewboy?"

We were on our way to see Stan, Cartman, Wendy, and Bebe off at the airport. They'd all gotten into schools outside of the state and today was the day they were all leaving.

And me? I had gotten into North Park University, a picturesque one-hour drive from Downtown South Park and barely two away from my mother. It hadn't been a big deal when I'd gotten accepted back in January, except to my mother who couldn't fathom her oldest son not going to a top school and nearly had a heart attack.

I use the term nearly with a lot of remorse by the way.

However in February when Stan announced he'd gotten into Penn State, along with Wendy, it was. Stan and I were supposed to go to school together, it was something we'd been planning on since Elementary school for Christ Sakes, and he'd sold me out for a girl he couldn't even talk to without throwing up until he was fifteen.

It was bullshit.

So now here I was, the kid going to local college while everyone else including my best, and in a way only, friend left. The only other person I knew of staying this close was Kenny and that was because he was too poor to go to an actual college and had ended up at North Park Community, and he'd only just managed that. He'd almost never come to class our last year; I was amazed when they called his name at graduation though not at all surprised that Kenny never showed to walk across the stage.

He'd fallen out of our group around Sophomore year and in with what my mother fearfully referred to as 'The Bad Crowd' while clucking her tongue and commenting on what a good boy she'd thought Kenny was. Which was total crap when you thought about it; as often as Kenny died and came back when we were kids it's a credit to him that he isn't locked in some loony bin talking to the stars and having tea parties with the voices in his head.

A good kid. Laughable.

Then again no one really remembers how many times Kenny died or how many times Cartman managed to turn the people in this town into a mindless mob against some minority. They just let it slide from their memory and I think that may have been part of the reason Kenny just let himself fade from view. I'd be a little pissed off if everyone just forgot I'd saved them from Satan and had been willing to spend eternity in hell for them.

That could just be me though.

"Don't call me that fatass." I snapped, glaring at Cartman who was staring at me in the rearview mirror. He must have called front seat before I showed up. I'll never understand how Stan and me let Kenny go but ended up being infected with Cartman our entire fucking lives. He honestly had no redeeming qualities and did nothing but make fun of anyone who was different from him.

"I mean, Jews are supposed to be good in school aren't they?" Cartman asked, ignoring me. "How is that you ended going to some backwater college? You might as well have gone to community with the poor fag and his friends."

"Shut the fuck up Cartman! Not all of us can have our mother's suck us into Yale!" I started to lean forward but Stan, ever the peacemaker, grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him until we were so close I was practically in his lap. I could see Cartman's mocking smirk in the rearview mirror, could almost hear the next gay joke working it's way through his mind, and would have liked nothing more than to smash his smug fat face with my fist.

However I have long since learned it's hard to stay mad when Stan's around. Something about the way he can touch me just makes me-

"Ignore him. He's just upset his mother wouldn't come see him off." Stan's voice was calm and infinitely patient, a trait he'd gained from always saving Fatboy from other people. Cartman could talk anyone into frenzy but Stan could just as easily talk them down from it.

"Like it's my fault his mom's too busy being a whore to come along." I muttered but already the anger was draining away. I could feel Stan's smile before he released my arm and settled back into his seat, cell phone once again in hand. He was texting Wendy like he wouldn't see her in five minutes anyway and then spend hours on a plane with her.

I didn't like Wendy. Had never really liked her because she always seemed to crop up between Stan and me at the worst possible moments, making him do the most dumbshit things thing the world for no damn reason. If she asked it of he'd jump to do it, even if that involved leaving me here, alone. He hadn't even so much as said 'sorry', like he thought I wanted to go to North Park or something. No one wanted to go to North Park; it was just something that happened sometimes to people who didn't plan well enough.

Only I had planned it and so the joke was on me.

I had a 3.5 all through school and I was going to North Park. Fucking ridiculous.

The ride continues in relative silence. Cartman occupied himself with a box of brownies his mother had sent for a snack on the plane, Stan talked to Wendy, and I just sat and stared out of the car feeling like the idiot I so obviously was. We pulled up alongside of Wendy's parent's car and then headed for the plane that would be taking everyone to Pittsburgh, including Cartman who'd have some kind of layover. I wasn't listening because…well, I didn't care.

We got to the gate and found Wendy crying in her mother's arms while her father looked everywhere but at them. Bebe's parents were there but they were pointedly ignoring their daughter and her boyfriend. Rumor had it they didn't approve of Token or, more accurately, Token dating Bebe. The fact they seemed to be fused at the lips probably wasn't making this a great day for them.

Token was going to NYU tomorrow so his parents were nowhere in sight.

I pulled my gaze from Token and Bebe, silently wondering how the hell a person could breathe like that, when someone let out a small cry. I saw Wendy wrap her arms around a slightly bewildered looking Stan who hugged her back awkwardly before turning back to the other couple.

I was content to spend the next thirty minutes watching them make out while Bebe's parents looked increasingly distressed. It was fun actually. Easy to imagine Cartman in that position thirty years down the line. Only knowing Cartman he'd find a way to lynch his daughter's boyfriend and get away with it.

He was going to be a fantastic lawyer that much was obvious.

About the time I noticed Cartman edging towards Bebe's parents, undoubtedly to spew some kind of propaganda about Black people that would require they ignore Token's 4.0, full scholarship, and Valedictorian status, Mr. Marsh announced the plane was boarding.

I almost sighed in relief. It was over; I'd showed up and been present while Stan left so I wasn't a bad friend or anything like that. My conscious was perfectly clear.

A hand touched my shoulder and I almost tripped over my feet trying to jump away. I turned to see Stan smirking at me. I glared and crossed my arms over my chest. Stan reached out and brought my arms back down. I looked down at them, dangling there uselessly like darkly freckled noodles. I didn't know what to do with them now so I just stared at them.

"You okay man? You haven't said anything since we got here."

I looked up at him, considering. This was my chance to let him know how I felt, how he'd betrayed me and was leaving me here to rot here while he went off with Wendy. To let him know that I was going to die without him here, that there would be nothing to keep me from just exploding under the weight of my mother and father and other people. I could let him know that I wasn't okay with this, that I had never been okay, and that I really fucking hated Wendy. I could have told him everything.

"I-"

"Stan." Wendy grabbed onto his arm and in that moment she seemed more leech than girl to me. "It's time to go, you don't want to miss the flight."

He smiled at her while wrapping an arm around her waist, leaning into her slightly and my stomach lurched and I knew I was going to be sick. How could he look at her like that, as if the whole world revolved around her, when I couldn't even stand the sound of her voice? What could he possibly see in her?

"One sec, I was just talking to Kyle."

"Don't worry about it." I said, taking a step away from them. "I'll talk to you once you get settled."

Stan looked away from Wendy and frowned, head cocking to the side. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He looked skeptical and I know he knew I was lying. Stan could see me so easily. Still he shrugged and, after picking up a bag I assumed was Wendy's considering what a vibrant shade of purple it was, headed to the bordering line. I wrapped my arms around myself again, feeling the almost biting chill of the airport for the first time.

I didn't bother watching the plane take off. I went outside and felt the cloying and smothering heat pressing against me as if trying to push the air from my lungs. I dropped onto a bench and leaned my head back, willing the thing sliding around in my stomach and trying to force my breakfast back up to be still for a while. I had to wait for Mr. Marsh to come out so I could go home, though walking didn't seem like a terrible idea. I didn't have to wait that long as Token came striding out a moment later.

He stopped next to me and arched an eyebrow. "You okay dude? You look like I feel." I shrugged. "O-kay then. You want a ride home? All of the parents are having a 'I remember when' moment so it could be a while."

I nodded and stood up to follow Token back to his car. I climbed in and again felt like I might suffocate. I was grateful when he put the top down and slunk down into the seat to wait for the ride to be over.

At least, I thought as we drove, things couldn't get worse.

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Comments and criticism wanted. Review, it makes us happy

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Excerpt from Chapter Two: "What do you mean I don't have a dorm room?" I asked. The man behind the desk flinched then swallowed then pushed the list towards me, which showed the 'B's'. I flipped to the page I should have been on and looked down the list, expecting to be able to easily point out my name and be done with this. It was barely noon and I was already exhausted.

Only I didn't. I flipped back a page, forward a page, and then back to the first page but nothing. I wasn't there. I handed the list back while taking a breath to remain calm. It wouldn't do to start the year off with a panic attack obviously. I could handle this, no problem, and I wouldn't need to start yelling or run home to my mother.

I was nearly nineteen; the least I could do is have some small mix-up sorted out without anyone else's help. I was an adult after all. Or at least that's what people kept telling me.

"You don't have any record of me at all?" I could almost feel the people in the line behind glaring at my back, furious at being held up. If I turned around I was pretty sure I'd pass out from sheer panic. I was never good at being in front of a lot of people.

The man blinked then turned to his computer. He hit a few keys then skimmed over something. He shot me a smile.

"Yes we do and I believe I understand the problem now. You're taking mostly general education courses and haven't picked a major, correct?"

Much to my mother's dismay. "Right."

"Well at North Park we give out dorms based on the students financial status and academic status. Due to a unusually high enrollment number this year we couldn't find a room for you." He said this all with a bright smile. I twitched, images of myself crawling home and telling my mother I didn't have a place to live coming to mind.

I can honestly say I'd rather die.


End file.
